Comfort
by crystalballer
Summary: Brennan tries expressing her sorrow over Booth's sorrow over his Grandpa. Spoilers for 5x08. And yes, dialouge from there is transferred here. As usual, I do not own anything.


Booth and Brennan were outside his grandfather's nursing home, waving goodbye to him as he was escorted in by a male orderly. From the distance, they could see him shrug off the orderly's help to turn around, waving them goodbye.

Hank Booth was so preoccupied with waving goodbye he tripped over the male orderly. Thankfully, said orderly was also the very thing he landed on, after which he got up and laughed, continuing with his enthusiastic goodbye wave.

Booth and Brennan laughed, waving.

"We should get back." Booth grinned sadly, getting into the car parked behind them.

"Yeah." His partner echoed.

Silence ensured. She was not one good at comforting people, therefore she did not know what to say.

_I'm Sorry? _That would seem unoriginal. _But does unoriginality ever come in the way of a situation when one needs comfort?_

While Brennan mused on the various ways of comforting Booth (yes, she was contemplating the various ways to express her sorrow at his... sorrow?), he was trying to find a way to break the awkward silence.

"That thing you're wearing looks nice." He cleared his throat, then immediately felt like sticking his head under the ground (like one of those ostriches in danger?) to hide from his embarrassment over his comment.

_That thing you're wearing looks nice? Nice one, Seel. Way to go. Infinite possibilities for an ice-breaker and you go for her wardrobe selection? Nice one._

Brennan glanced over at the way he was purposefully avoiding her gaze, keeping it fixed at a certain point on the road. _I don't think it had been easy for him to say that._

"Thanks, Booth."

Pause.

"Your ensemble today isn't bad, either."

Brennan turned to stare out of the window, lost in thought again. _Would baking a pie be able to cheer him up? How about a few drinks? Or maybe..._

Booth turned around, surprised. Compliments from Brennan seemed to be rather numerous lately.

Half an hour passed in silence, the both of them lost in thought (Brennan preoccupied with the best gesture to express _I'm Sorry, _Booth busy sifting through his memories of the past month to dredge up whatever compliment he remembered Brennan throwing his way).

It comes as a shock when Booth finally pulls up at the Jeffersonian. "Wow. That was fast." Brennan blinked in apparent shock. Her thoughts had consumed her for far longer than she had expected.

"So... I'll see you Saturday?" Booth walked Brennan up to the doors of the Medico-Legal lab, stopped, and then turned around to face her.

"Yeah." She smiled, both of them starting to part ways, when she turned around and ran after him.

"Wait."

Booth stopped, curious. "What?"

Brennan took a deep breath, exhaling her words out. "I'm sorry about Hank, Booth. I knew how much you'd miss him and..." she trailed to a stop, obviously at a loss for words.

He smiled at her. It was tinged with sadness, sure, but it was still a smile.

Brennan had an idea.

"Don't move, Booth." She stepped to his side.

"What?" He tried to move his head, but she grabbed it with her hands and craned it such that his profile was facing her.

"What are you doing, Bones?" Booth stammered. Even a simple touch could have him incoherent.

Damn, he had it bad.

She grinned, her smile broad on her lips, and then leaned in to kiss his cheek.

He shivered. Yeah, he had it bad.

"How about my other cheek?" He grinned cheekily, presenting her with the other side of his profile.

She leant in, playing along, but at the last minute he felt a neck cramp coming on.

"Oww, Ne-"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence, because right then, Brennan's lips collided with his instead of his cheek.

Holy. He didn't expect her to play along (an almost- forehead kiss was still fresh in his memory, thank you very much).

_This is nothing like that mistletoe kiss._

Brennan smiled, her grin broad and full against his lips. She slung an arm over his neck, grabbing one of his hands with her other.

_Nothing at all._

And in the back of her mind, she could have sworn she heard Angela's voice go, "Of course, Sweetie."

_That was disturbing._

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